


Pretty

by megthemewlingquim



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Mush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-08-20 00:09:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20218552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megthemewlingquim/pseuds/megthemewlingquim
Summary: You help Aziraphale groom his wings.





	Pretty

**Author's Note:**

> Requested by anonymous on Tumblr:
> 
> Could you write a wingfic Aziraphale x gender-neutral reader where the reader helps him to groom his feathers please?(Not nsfw just some fluff)
> 
> On Tumblr, for Good Omens fanfiction, I am "the-ineffable-writer"

"How long has it been?"

Aziraphale looks up from his tea and turns his head towards you. "Hm? Since what, dear heart?"

"Since you've had your wings out," you say, looking back at him. It's a question that popped into your head with no warning, and yet you wanted to ask him. 

"Oh," says Aziraphale. "Technically a couple of months ago, but that was an illusion. Crowley had stopped time so we could talk to the An-- to a friend.

"I haven't had them out for real since the Beginning."

"You -- you mean the Beginning of Time?"

"No, just the world," says Aziraphale. "Since the Beginning of the world. Crowley and I had agreed to keep our wings hidden from humanity. We felt that they... the humans, I mean, wouldn't like it." He takes a quick sip of his tea.

"That's... kind of dumb," you say. There's a pause before you add, "No offense."

Aziraphale tilts his head. "Why would that be dumb?" He doesn't sound offended, which you're grateful for.

"I'm sure humanity would love to see your wings." You shrug, looking down at your feet. "I know I would," you say shyly.

"You haven't ever seen them." It isn't a question, but you shake your head anyways.

"Would you like to? No one else is around."

"You're sure, Aziraphale?" you ask, somewhat bewildered that he would break his own rules for you. "I don't want you to get in t--"

"I won't," he said. "Crowley'll understand."

"Okay, um," you start, "do you ah, want me to move?"

"Yes please," he says, "it would be helpful."

You smile at him before moving. You slide down to sit on the floor, looking up at him like how a dog would.

He takes a breath, and exhales. At this point, you feel a bit awkward being there, but it passes when, after a few seconds, narrow masses of white emerge from behind Aziraphale, and a feeling begins to fill the entire room -- a blooming warmth and an immense feeling of serenity and peace. You are immediately put at ease, not that you weren't already.

Then you see Aziraphale's wings, and your jaw drops.

They're a beautiful snow white, and there's a white glow around them. The feathers, though maybe a bit tangled and not all in line with each other, are moving from a non existent breeze. And they sparkle, you notice when you squint. 

"Wow," is all you manage at first. "Aziraphale, they're wonderful."

He blushes. "That's awfully kind of you to say, dearest."

You shrug. "I'm telling the truth, Azi. Now, can you turn around? We should groom them."

"Oh, I haven't done that either, now that I think of it." Aziraphale suddenly looks nervous. "Very... ah... I didn't think they needed grooming." He turns around anyways, and his wings are now in front of you. 

"They don't really need it too much, but I think I should."

"You're so kind, [Y/N]."

"What do I use?" you ask, avioding Aziraphale's compliment. "To -- to brush them, or...y'know."

"You can just use your hands, if you want to."

You get up then, and run to the kitchen. Aziraphale hears the sink faucet running for a little bit. Then it turns off, and you come back in. 

"I had to wash my hands," you say.

He doesn't say anything. He only smiles at you.

"Alright, let's start."

You grab a chair from the corner of the room and sit on it, facing Aziraphale's wings. Slowly and cautiously, you reach up a hand and run your fingers through the gaps between feathers.

"Woah," you whisper. Your hand has been embraced in a different feeling, one of.. of... you can't even put a word to it. They're warm and they're soft but there's also something spreading up your arm and it just feels good.

"What?" Aziraphale asks. He sounds panicked. "What is it?"

"I don't know," you say, honestly, "it just feels nice."

"That's heavenly power for you," he says. "Angels are surrounded by it, but only when their wings are out. Right now, I've... ah, toned it down, because when it's at full capacity, it would vaporize you on the spot."

"Oh." You momentarily draw your hand away, but then seeing that it's not harming you, you put it back, stroking Aziraphale's feathers lightly now.

All you do is comb the feathers that look slightly out of place back to their spots. 

He sighs, and it sounds... blissful. "Good job," he says. "Thank you."

"Of course," you say. "Anytime."


End file.
